In the City Streets
by Scatch
Summary: Wirt and Greg have just moved to the bustling city, where sinister secrets lie in dark alleyways. Rated M for gore and drug/ drug mention. ( Beast!Wirt or as I call it, Bert ... like BEast and wiRT )
1. Chapter 1

The city seemed larger at night. Flickering street lights buzzed and cast moving shadows all around. A police siren sounded in the distance. Wirt walked to the street corner, staring hard at the piece of paper in his hand. He glanced around cautiously.

"It's got to be around here somewhere," Wirt looked again at the address on the paper. He had just been to the flat that morning, but that was when it was still light out, when the city was kinder, gentler. As soon as the sun went down, the atmosphere took a darker, more sinister ambiance.

Wirt wrapped his navy blue jacket tighter around him. He knew he had to get home to Greg, who, lord knows, had probably burned the building down. Wirt briskly walked up the street, everything looked so unfamiliar. Wirt stopped to check the street signs, and heard footsteps behind him.

He froze.

"Should I look back..." Suddenly his feet started walking. The footsteps followed. Wirt hastily turned a corner and began to run. Another corner, he paused, panting hard. The footsteps had subsided, but he couldn't shake the feeling that someone was there, watching. He peeked around the corner. The street was empty, save a few stray cats sifting through the trash. He sighed, relieved. He was about to begin walking, when he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder.

Wirt jumped, whipping around to face the unknown. An old man stood in front of him, staring. His eyes were bloodshot and dark. The old man's brow was furrowed, his hair unkempt and matted under a tattered black hat.

"You shouldn't be here," the old man's voice was gruff, as if he smoked a pack a day.

"L-look here old man, I don't want no trouble," Wirt shakily reached for his wallet and pulled out some cash, offering it to the old man, The old man scowled, slapping away Wirt's money with a dirty, bandaged hand.

"Fool!" he yelled, "I don't want your money!" The old man's shifty eyes darted around, as if he were looking for someone.

"You shouldn't be out this late, boy," the old man began to bite his nails which were yellow stained and ragged.

"He knows you're here now," the old man's teeth were stained various shades of grey. "Probably from meth," Wirt thought distastefully.

"Sure, old man. I've got to go-"

"No! He knows! He knows you now!" The old man's eyes were wide... With fear? Was he just stoned? He grabbed Wirt's arm.

"You must leave," the old man muttered, "Before he finds you…"

"Before who finds me?" Wirt questioned him. Would this old man be okay out here?

"The Beast!" the old man wheezed, "The Beast will find you. He will find you and he will kill you." Wirt pulled away from the old man.

"Get off of me!" He stumbled back and hit, what he thought, was a wall. The old man looked up in fear, and began to whimper, tears streaming down his face.

"Well, well," Wirt heard a deep, seductive voice come from the wall behind him. He turned around. It was not a wall, not a wall at all.

A tall, tan man stood in front of Wirt, He had long black hair pulled back into a bun at the nape of his neck. He smiled, showing neat white teeth, with unusually sharp canines. He was wearing all black, including his duster trench coat. Wirt looked into his eyes and immediately wished he hadn't. The man's eyes were a swirling vortex, were the blue? Were they green? Flecks of gold danced in his irises, his pupils were barely visible, but Wirt wasn't sure if it was due to the poor lighting, or perhaps, he just didn't have any.

Wirt jumped when the man put out a leather gloved hand. He chuckled. The old man's weeping turned to wailing.

"Pleased to meet you," the man smiled.

"I'm the Beast."


	2. Chapter 2

"I'm the Beast."

Wirt put his hand forward, touching the smooth leather of the Beast's black glove.

"I'm… My name is Wirt," Wirt looked down, uncomfortable from the Beast's intense stare. The old man's weeping seemed to quiet.

"Wirt," the Beast whispered his name. Wirt shivered. Was this fear? Or was this... Wirt looked up into the Beast's captivating gaze. The Beast smiled, his tombstone teeth shining in the street light. His grip on Wirt's hand tightened, Wirt winced at the pain.

The Beast let go of Wirt's hand, grabbing a cigarette from his trench pocket.

"What brings you out at this time of night, my dear Wirt," the Beast asked, he lit his cigarette.

"I'm just trying to get home, so if you'll excuse me I-" Wirt tried to walk past the Beast, but was caught by a black gloved hand. The Beast took a drag of his cigarette.

"You seem a bit lost," the Beast's mouth poured smoke, "Perhaps I could be of service to you." He smiled dangerously.

"You leave him alone, Beast!" the old man yelled.

Suddenly, the Beast was on him, the old man hit the ground. The Beast was crouched over him, his hand on the old man's throat. Wirt was frozen in fear. The Beast's face was contorted into a crazed smile, his teeth bared. The old man was gasping for air, his hands clawing at the Beast's.

"What was that, old man," laughed the Beast, his grip tightened and the old man's face began to turn a violent red. "I wonder," the Beast mused, looking up from the old man, "How your daughter is doing. I haven't spoken to her in a while. Perhaps I should," the Beasts eyes narrowed to slits. "Is that what you want," he looked down at the old man, who was gasping for breath, his eyes wide. Tears were streaming down the old man's face; he closed his eyes in defeat.

"That what I thought," the Beast got up from the old man and walked back to Wirt. The old man sobbed and crawled deeper into the alley, he disappeared into the darkness.

Wirt's eyes brimmed with tears; he tasted bile in his throat. The Beast smiled and lit a fresh cigarette.

"How may I be of service?"


	3. Chapter 3

"How may I be of Service?"

The Beast blew out a puff of smoke, which hung like a dark cloud above him. Wirt's mind was reeling. The Beast had switched demeanors so easily… Wirt felt the folded paper in his hand, it was damp with sweat.

"I've got to get home," thought Wirt, "I need to get away from here."

"Ah," Wirt looked around nervously, avoiding the Beast's, gaze He felt the Beast's eyes on him.

"I've got to go, I've got to go. It's late and I'm- I mean… I've got to go," Wirt's words fumbled and came out tangled from his mouth. He met the Beasts eyes. The Beast took a drag from his cigarette and smiled, smoke pouring from his nostrils like a big black dragon.

"Allow me to help guide you-"

"No!" Wirt jumped at his own voice. The Beast's gaze narrowed, his eyes were feral, they glinted in the dim light. Wirt grasped for words.

"No! No, I mean I can get there. Myself. Without- I mean thanks but," Wirt clenched the paper in his hand. The paper crinkled. The Beast glanced down at Wirt's hand, which Wirt then shoved into his coat pocket. The Beast slowly stepped towards Wirt, mischief in his eyes.

Step.

Step.

Step.

A low rumble of thunder vibrated through the air.

Wirt couldn't break the Beast's stare. He was entranced in the glowing, vibrant pools of ever changing color.

Wirt's mouth hung open, he couldn't move. Couldn't? No, he didn't want to move. The Beast circled Wirt, like a serpent coiling round it's prey.

Wirt felt a warm touch on his neck, his eyes fluttered shut. His heart was beating rapidly, his breath caught in his throat. The Beast brushed his gloved finger tips across Wirt's neck. He smiled as he felt Wirt shiver. He wrapped his hand around Wirt's neck, gently, and neared his face to Wirt's. He tossed his cigarette to the damp ground.

Wirt felt smoke blow onto his face and gagged slightly.

The Beast dragged his hand down Wirt's arm, until he reached Wirt's pocket.

Wirt tensed.

"Give me that," growled the Beast, his mouth contorted into a snarl. The Beast snatched the slip of paper from his pocket, and Wirt jumped away, the spell broken.

Wirt whipped around.

"Give that back!" He lunged for the Beast, but the Beast gracefully sidestepped the attack, causing Wirt to smash head first into the brick alley wall.

He fell to the ground.

Wirt brought his hand to his head.

The alley was spinning.

A metallic taste tinged his tongue.

He looked up at the Beast, who was intently staring at the piece of paper. The Beast looked over at Wirt.

"Oh my," his voice rumbled. He briskly walked over to Wirt and crouched down. Wirt flinched back as the Beast reached towards his face.

The Beast's brow furrowed, and he then proceeded to remove the glove from his hand. Wirt watched from half closed eyes.

He could feel himself drifting off into unconsciousness.

The Beast reached towards Wirt's face. He felt the cool touch of his fingers, and saw the red liquid that covered his pale hand when the Beast drew back.

He saw the Beast bring his red stained hands near to his face.

He blinked.

The Beast's tongue darted out.

The light was fading.

The Beast's smile turned red.

Wirt's eyes drifted shut.


	4. Chapter 4

Trees, there were trees everywhere. Dark and massive and looming.

No stars twinkled in the sky. But… The moon. The moon was full, and so bright. It almost seemed to shimmer iridescently. Changing color and shining so bright. A midnight sun.

Wirt was lying on the ground. His eyes closed. A stream of red ran from his nose and onto the snowy ground beneath him.

A wolf howled in the distance.

Wirt awoke, groggy and cold. "Where am I…" He was covered in a layer of leaves and snow. He coughed and covered his mouth with his hand.

Something wet.

He looked down and saw blood. Dark, thick blood slicked his hand. Wirt's eyes grew wide. He began to cough again. Specks of blood flew from his mouth and speckled the white snow around him. It dribbled down his chin. He couldn't breathe.

"Greg," he called out, "Greg!" His words were garbled.

The blood began to overwhelm his mouth and Wirt fell onto the ground. He chocked, spewing blood onto the ground around him.

He looked around the clearing. A frigid win began t o blow.

He vomited. Black. He gasped for air, tears streaming from his eyes. His chest heaved. He coughed again.

Blood pooled.

Something moved in the trees.

The moon watched.

A small boy emerged from the woods and silently walked over towards Wirt. He watched as Wirt coughed and hacked, dark matter spraying from his mouth. The boy's feet crunched in the snow. Wirt jumped and turned to face the sound.

"Greg!" Wirt ran to him and threw his arms around the small boy. The boy did not move.

"Greg, oh Greg. Are you alright?" Wirt coughed, spattering blood on the boy's face. He didn't flinch. The boy just stared back blankly. His eyes were lifeless and dull. His skin was a pale grey.

"Greg? Greg what's wrong? Are you hurt?" Wirt touched Greg's face.

"Greg," he breathed, his eyes filled with tears. He hugged the boy tightly.

"Greg please talk to me." The boy began to shake violently.

"Greg?" Wirt pulled away and watched as the boy gnashed his teeth, his eyed rolled back into his head. Blood began to pour from his mouth. Wirt felt bile rise in his throat.

"Greg!" He screamed. Tears freely flowed from his eyes as he watched the boy writhe on the ground, choking. Wirt vomited. The stench of blood was overwhelming.

Suddenly, the boy ceased his movements. Wirt kneeled close to him.

"Greg," he touched the boy's shoulder. A shudder went through Wirt as he heard the boy growl.

Greg's body began to twist and contort. Wirt could hear his bones breaking. The boy's teeth protruded from his mouth and sharpened. A thick black fur sprouted from his lily skin. Fingernails turned to claws. Teeth turned to vicious fangs. Wirt gasped and tried to run towards the edge of the forest. The wolf was upon him, covered in bits of flesh and drenched in blood. The wolf's eyes glowed.

"Greg please," Wirt cried hysterically.

"Greg- Greg!" The wolf bared his teeth and lunged for Wirt's throat.

"Greg no!"

Wirt bolted up right. Sheets tangled around him. Wirt looked at the clock, 3:00 AM.

"How did I get here…" All he could remember was talking to a man in an alley way and- His head throbbed.

Greg!

Wirt jumped out of his bed and ran down the hall to Greg's room. He slowly opened the door to find a peacefully sleeping Greg. Wirt sighed. He was about to leave Greg's room, when he noticed a small note sticking from underneath his pillow. Wirt padded across the room and grabbed it.

[Cute kid. You shouldn't leave him alone for so long. Should something happen. –Beast]

The memories from the night came rushing back into his head.

The man in black.

The Beast.

Wirt sank to his knees.

What had he done.


	5. Chapter 5

Breathing hard, Sara rounded the corner. The street was empty and glowed eerily. Yellowed lamp lights and red street lights blinked- their soft light reflected and sparkled on the slick pavement.

The heavy sound of running feet echoed in the alley ways.

"Where is she?"

"Find her!"

Sara quickly rounded a corner into an unlit alley. A bead of sweat rolled down her tan skin and dripped onto the concrete. She crouched behind a large dumpster as shadows passed the mouth of the alley.

She held her breath and gripped the hilt of the knife in her pocket with trembling hands.

The shadows slowly crept toward her.

Sara felt the cool brick on her back. Her hands were trembling violently as she attempted to remove the knife from her pocket. The knife slipped through her grip and hit the ground with a clatter. The blade flashed from the shadows.

"There!"

In a whirlwind of movement, Sara snatched up the knife and lunged forward, slashing the knife through the air.

One of her assailants screamed in pain. Sara watched in horror as he fell to the ground, writing in pain. His meaty hand covered the wound, blood was gushing down his face. His accomplice ran to his aid, kneeling beside him.

Then she saw.

There was a seam of blood running from the man's forehead over his eye down to his chin. Fresh blood flowed from his eye and pooled on the concrete beneath him.

Sara looked down at her little kitchen knife. Its red glistening serrated edge sparkled with wrath. She looked again at the two men before her. Her hands were no longer trembling.

She crouched and readied her bloody knife.

The other man stood, ignoring his partners' whimpers of pain, and brushed the dirt from his pants. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, which he with a smile. The illumination from his small flame made his wild red hair glow like a halo. He took a long drag, nearly finishing the cigarette.

Sara watched him with cautious eyes.

He threw the still burning cigarette to the ground and stamped it out. Laughing menacingly, he picked up a metal pipe from the ground. It scraped along the ground as he walked towards her, it's sound bouncing off the walls that surrounded them.

Sara swallowed hard. "Wh-what do you want?" she rasped, her breathing erratic. She clenched the knife with white knuckles.

"I wanna' show you what happens when you fuck with the Pottsfeilds," He smiled, showing his crooked nicotine stained teeth, and lunged.


	6. Chapter 6

Sara tensed, her breathing uneven.

"We'll show you what happens when you fuck with the Pottsfeilds," he smiled, baring his crooked yellowed teeth.

Previously that day

Sara flicked the lighter to life and inhaled the smoke from her cigarette. She stared out the window and exhaled a cloud of smoke. It emerged with slow tendrils from her mouth, swimming through the air. She watched it float and pool on the ceiling then shifted her empty gaze back to the window.

Her cigarette burned down to the quick under her neglectful watch. She jumped and cursed as she cradled her burnt fingers. The singed cigarette butt landed with a soft noise on the floor.

Sara looked down to her wasted cigarette with disdain, shifted uncomfortably, and lit a fresh cigarette.

She drew uneven breaths, barely noticing the shake in her hands as she pulled the cigarette from her lips. Her eyes were red and puffy, mascara smeared down her sable cheeks.

Her eyes flicked down to the syringe she found, still half full of a honey brown substance, and she felt her throat fill with bile. She looked away and took another drag.

"I know he was having a hard time but.." Sara thought, she exhaled and picked up the syringe. The smoke coiled around it, wrapping its ghostly tendrils around its hard plastic. The needle glinted in the fluorescent light. The honey liquid inside viscously moved as she examined it.

Sara was so entranced with the slow seductive movements in the vile, she didn't hear the keys jingling, or the door opening, or the soft sounds of approaching feet. What got Sara's attention was the soft gasp from across the bedroom.

Sara turned quick, dropping the syringe to the floor with a clatter. Her eyes wide, mouth gaping. She looked from the floor to the person across from her.

Jason stood wide eyed at the door to their bedroom. He looked to the ground where the syringe had rolled to him. He bent and reached to pick it up.

"Don't." Sara's voice was no more than a whisper.

Jason froze.

Their eyes met from across the room. He rose slowly, his arms hung limp at his sides. Sara's intense, questioning stare was more than he could handle. Jason broke eye contact and absently tugged at his sleeves.

Sara walked towards Jason, the space between them felt heavy as she moved closer.

"Jason.." she reached her hand to hold his, and he flinched away. Sara pulled back her hand, hurt. "Jason, why.. were you using?"

Jason's eyes shifted. "I wasn't, at first."

"At first?" Sara moved to catch his empty gaze. "Jason," he looked away. Sara caught his face between her hands, "What do you mean at first?"

Jason's eyes began to gloss over with tears, his lip trembled as he was forced to look at Sara's face.

"It was never meant to go this far," His voice broke and his nose began to run. Small salty rivers began to fall down his cheeks. "I-it.. I didn't mean.."

"Jason, please. Just tell me." Sara looked at him, pleading for him to explain. Her eyes searched his tear stained face and she brushed his sandy hair from his face. "Jason.."

Jason collapsed sobbing into her arms. She cradled him, kneeling on the floor, and smoothing his hair. She muttered soft assurances as he trembled, his cries gradually becoming more quiet.

Sara sat with him in her arms, at a loss for what to say, or even what to think.

"Jason," Sara looked down at him, his red rimmed eyes met hers, "When did this start?"

Jason sat up, his back turned. He slowly slid around to face her. "I.." Jason was wringing his hands, his eyes darted around the room, "I-i lost my job… at the firm." He looked up at Sara, fresh tears falling down his cheeks.

Sara reached to touch his cheek, "Oh, Jason," he flinched at her touch, but then leaned into her hand. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Jason closed his eyes, "I don't know… I just thought you would be embarrassed of me.. Or that you'd leave me.. I don't know." Jason looked up at Sara, his eyes frantic, searching her face.

"Sara, I love you."


End file.
